Mayor Arbuckle stroked his beard, a shrewd look on his face. Finally he smiled and nodded at the scribe who sat at a low table across the hall.
“Write it up,” he declared. “Make sure it’s posted in the square, at the temple, and in every tavern in Ironroot.”
As the scribe began scribbling diligently, Mayor Arbuckle rose from his chair and heaved a deep sigh. He tossed his gavel down on the lectern with a bang. “Well, that’s quite enough business for one day,” he said, donning his topcoat. “Unless anyone else has something to add, I’m going home.”
It was as if a magic spell had been broken. The tension dissipated. Everyone rose, talking among themselves and gathering their things. Within seconds the chamber began to empty.
“You did good, lad,” Much said, clapping him on the shoulder as Bradok descended to the outer walkway. “That was excellent thinking.”
“Seemed like the right thing to do,” Bradok said.
Much’s grip steered him in the direction of the door. “About that,” Much continued in a more conspiratorial voice. “You might want to be careful not to try to do right too much of the time,” he said. “Since you’re new, a lot of the older councilmen will expect you to mind your place for a while. They might feel threatened if Mayor Arbuckle takes too big a shine to you.”
Mayor Arbuckle taking a shine to him? Bradok didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. What he really wanted to do was tell Much that he’d fully intended to keep his mouth shut during his first day on the council. After Sapphire’s lecture that morning and the warning Much had just given him, however, he reasoned that it might be better to keep his private thoughts just that-private.
“One more thing,” Much said, his voice dropping even lower. “Be careful about Jon Bladehook; he’s not entirely a bad one. Make him your friend, if that’s still possible. He’s not one to cross.”
“I gathered that,” Bradok said. “Don’t worry. I have no intention of getting in Bladehook’s way.”
Much smiled and thumped Bradok on the chest. “Good lad,” he said. “I knew you had your wits about you.”
As they passed out of city hall and into the cool air of Ironroot, Bradok caught a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. There, at the foot of the stairs, stood the ragged dwarf with his painted sign.
“Now, my boy,” Much went on, oblivious to the dwarf with the sign. “We have to do something to mark your first successful day as a councilman of Ironroot.”
“Much,” Bradok protested, “I really don’t-”
“None of that, now,” Much said, taking a firmer hold on Bradok’s shoulder as if he half expected the younger dwarf to make a break for it. “I told the people at the Bunch o’ Grapes to cook up a goose for us with all the trimmings and set aside a freshly tapped keg.”
Bradok dearly wanted to go home, to go to his workshop and lose himself in the workings of his craft- anything to take his mind off the troubling events of the day.
Much, however, was not to be resisted.
Thus it was well after midnight when Bradok made his way wearily up the stairs to his front door. The evening had passed swiftly with good company, good food, and plenty of beer. Bradok hadn’t spent such a pleasant evening in a long time. There was a tense moment when Bradok caught sight of Jon Bladehook drinking with the captain of the city guard, who, Much informed Bradok, was Bladehook’s brother-in-law. The awkwardness passed, however, when Bladehook caught sight of Bradok and sent him over a bottle of wine to welcome him to the council.
All in all, Bradok had had a most pleasant time. He had all but forgotten the new law he’d proposed.
Five hours later, however, the new law banning street preachers forcefully returned to his thoughts. An incessant pounding awakened him from a sound sleep.
Moments later Bradok pulled open his heavy door to find two city guardsmen on his stoop.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this late visit by the constabulary?” Bradok asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
The two blue-liveried dwarves looked at each other in confusion.
“What do you want?” Bradok stated more plainly.
The taller of the two dwarves stepped forward. “Begging your pardon, Councilman,” he said in a slightly jittery voice. “We’ve been sent to summon you to the council chamber.”
“At this hour?” Bradok demanded before he realized he had no idea just what hour it was.
“Yes, sir,” the second dwarf said. “The mayor has called an emergency session on account of the, uh, riot.”
Bradok’s head snapped up, and the fog left his weary brain. “What riot?” he wondered.
“There’s a riot going on outside the temple,” the first guard said. “We’ve been sent to ensure your safety, Councilman. Please hurry.”
“Can I dress first?” Bradok asked.
The guard nodded and Bradok stepped back so they could enter his foyer.
“What’s the meaning of this,” Sapphire’s voice floated down from the balcony above. “Why are there armed dwarves in our home in the middle of the night?”
“Go back to bed, Mother,” Bradok said, climbing the stairs two at a time. “It’s council business. I’m needed.”
His mother protested as he passed by, but he was too dazed to pay her any mind. He threw on whatever clothes were handy, and five minutes later he was back in the foyer.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s go.”
The guardsmen went first, walking shoulder to shoulder, with Bradok in their wake. He had checked his watch when he dressed; the hour was four. Normally at that hour of the morning the streets of Ironroot would be deserted save for the night watch and the occasional tradesman trying to get a jump on the day.
That night, however, the city was awash in activity.
Even before Bradok reached the main cavern, he could hear the hum of a crowd. The acrid smell of smoke reached his nostrils as they emerged into the main cavern. A large, angry crowd had gathered in front of the temple.
Skirting the crowd, the guardsmen led Bradok along the far edge of the cavern to the steps of city hall. A large number of armed guards ringed the building, watching the crowd near the temple with nervous glances. All of them had their hands on their weapons.
“We’ll leave you here,” his escort said. “They’re expecting you inside.”
Bradok watched the guardsmen as they turned and headed back into the city, presumably to fetch another council member.
If the outside of city hall was in chaos, the inside was pure frenzy. It looked to Bradok as if the majority of the councilmen were already there, most yelling, while some were pounding on their desks. On the high seat, Mayor Arbuckle sat, his chin resting on his hands, clearly having lost control of the proceedings.
“There he is,” someone yelled, and the chamber went suddenly, frighteningly quiet.
All eyes turned to Bradok and for a long moment a pregnant pause hung in the air.
“There,” a voice hissed.
“Traitor,” came another.
“Silence!” Arbuckle’s voice cut through the room like thunder.
“What is going on here?” Bradok demanded. He was still fuzzy-headed but felt certain something was terribly wrong.
“You brought this trouble upon us,” Councilman Auger yelled.
“The riot?” Bradok asked, trying to keep his voice even. “I know nothing about that. I have just woken up and arrived here.”
“It was you who thought up that law,” Auger yelled. “The law that has sparked the riot. You probably plotted this whole mess with your oh-so-reasonable solution to our problem.”
“It did seem reasonable, didn’t it?” Jon Bladehook cut in. “Only an unreasonable person would object to it.” Bladehook walked out into the center of the floor, drawing full attention to himself. “But no, we shouldn’t fault our new comrade for being reasonable,” he said, his voice smooth as butter. “It is the believers who are being
